New Order Read Online Free Page B

Michael tuts and pulls my hands around his middle. ‘Don’t play coy,’ he tells me, ‘it doesn’t suit you.’
    Before I can reply, he guns the engine and takes off, accelerating down the long street with the large houses on one side and the leafy shadows of Hyde Park on the other. He’s a remarkably adept driver. It’s still fairly early and we’re in central London so there’s a fair amount of traffic but Michael weaves in and out of the cars with ease and speed. It turns out that Lord Montserrat is actually a bit of an adrenaline junkie. As I gain confidence in his skills, I relax against him and pay attention to where we’re going.
    We whizz past shop fronts and streets packed with revellers out to enjoy the evening. The few times we pause at traffic lights, I realise that nearby pedestrians are shooting us curious looks. A few recognise Michael and point him out to their friends. One or two turn away in open disgust. I frown. Another drawback to being able to venture outside only when he’s with me is that I lose my anonymity. Fortunately, it’s not long before he pulls up outside a nondescript building about eight storeys high. He turns off the engine. I get off, freeing myself from the confines of the helmet, then I look around. The area is full of offices. I’m confused.
    Without a word, Michael walks to one of the buildings and leaps upwards, his fingers grabbing the windowsill on the second floor. With no apparent effort, he brings up his feet then springs over four feet to the next sill. He continues upwards. I merely gape.
    He’s almost at the top when I realise that I’m supposed to follow him. I lick my lips. Didn’t he just say something about not bashing in my skull? Falling twenty feet onto a hard pavement might have the same result. I’m determined not to appear weak, though. I focus on the first windowsill then I squeeze my eyes shut and jump.
    I’m so surprised I make it that I almost let go and fall back down. Clinging on with my fingertips, I heave myself up and brace my arms against the walls surrounding the glass. The office inside is dark but I can still make out the desks and chairs. It reminds me abruptly of Dire Straits so, before I dwell too much on that thought, I jump quickly to the next window, copying Michael’s movements. The higher I go, the more confident I become and I’m at the second to last storey when I catch myself grinning. Okay, maybe this is kind of fun.
    I’m about to leap up to the roof when something feels wrong. There’s an odd sound of cracking then, half a second later, my right foot falls and I slip. My stomach flies up to my heart as I scrabble for purchase and only just grab what remains of the crumbling stone edge with my left hand. My body swings slightly in the air and I curse. I dig my feet into the side of the building, willing myself to hang on, then swap hands so I can manoeuvre across to the window on the right-hand side instead. There’s a light inside and, throwing myself towards it before I lose my grip, I hope I don’t surprise some poor cleaner going about their night shift.
    Fortunately the bricks on this side are better maintained and I pull myself back up. Inside the brightly lit office, a couple is sprawled across a desk. They stare at me, frozen in horror. The woman, who’s on top, is wearing nothing more than a lacy bra. When they shake themselves from their rabbit-in-headlights inaction and spring up to find their clothes to protect their modesty, I catch the glint of a wedding ring on the man’s finger. Old instincts die hard, and I check the woman’s hands as she scoops up her discarded blouse. Her fingers are bare. It would be pretty damn easy to be a private investigator spying on cheating spouses with these kind of Spiderman skills. I give them a friendly wave and push off from my toes to make the final jump. Then I’m on top of the flat roof, rolling onto my back, limbs akimbo and breathing hard.
    Michael bends down.